


Girls/Girls/Books

by PurplePluto



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Bookstore worker Hermione, F/F, Hermione isn't oblivious as much as she's in denial, Some bullying, little pinches of cursing, some background flonks drarry and linny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-24 10:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePluto/pseuds/PurplePluto
Summary: During the summer, Hermione Granger works at a small bookshop. It's quiet and peaceful, or at least it would be if a certain Pansy would stop visiting.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I think I've finally grown out of my Harry Potter phase! Time to move on to bigger and better things!  
> Pansmione, shoving an idea in my face: Ding dong you're wrong.  
>  Yeah the title was based on that one p!atd song.  
> I hope you enjoy this!

Sunlight flooded the dark room as Hermione lifted the curtains of the large window that almost covered an entire wall. It was six thirty in the morning on a rapidly heating day in July, and she was the first one in. Hermione had only been working at the bookshop since the beginning of summer in June, but she’d gotten used to the familiar space.

The store had bookshelves lined up row by row on the grey-green carpeting. Its walls were painted a pastel blue color that was starting to chip in certain areas. Bright posters of book and coffee themed words were posted on the walls asymmetrically, with pauses for windows so natural sunlight and a view of the busy streets could be let in. In addition to the sunlight, several light fixtures hung down from the ceiling, covered in messy paint and what gave the appearance of tissue paper. It was artistic and disorganized and oddly comforting.

She walked over to the register, where a pile of books in a cardboard box laid waiting to be shelved. Their covers were bright and colorful, with the smell of fresh parchment radiating from them. The air was crisp, the aisles of books in symmetric rows, and the outside world’s usual noise was a mere muttering. 

_ This is what happiness feels like,  _ Hermione thought, sorting the fresh books and placing them on their respective shelves. Since it was still early, no one would be here till it was time for the store to open. This was perfect for her, as she enjoyed a quiet moment alone to read or study or do whatever she wanted. Whatever she wanted tended to be texting Ron and Harry or read up on some poetry, and today she chose the former.

**_Hermione--_ ** beautifulcat.jpeg

**_Hermione--_ ** Look who was laying in the sun.

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** little monster

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** Don’t be mean to Crookshanks

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** It’s not his fault your rat was an asshole

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** r00d

**_Hermione--_ ** Harry! Watch your language, I’m at work.

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** Sorry ‘Mione

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** Wait it’s 6:45 why are u at work

**_Hermione--_ ** I get there early, remember?

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** bloody hell mione

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** this is Too Early

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** Goodnight

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** Yeaaaah

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** Gotta agree with Ron on this one

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** Later Hermione

Hermione set down her phone on the messy desk. Though messy wasn’t really the right word for it, as everything was in little piles and following some sort of order, it was just  _ full.  _ It was full and busy and gave Hermione something to do to pass the time.

She found a pile of books with a sticky note taped to them, reading:  _ Display!!! Do NOT forget!!!  _ in the recognizable chicken scratch that was her boss’s handwriting. Hermione loved her boss, the cool 30 something with dyed hair who wore her heart on her sleeve, but her penmanship was  _ terrible.  _ It had taken Hermione a month to figure out how to read it. Either way, the note had been meant for Hermione and what kind of person would she be if she ignored it. 

After glancing at the books, Hermione determined they were all beach themed. It was fitting for the hot July weather, however she had no idea what to do for the display. She was never the best at that sort of thing, but she would certainly try and learn quickly. Within a few minutes she already had around 12% of a plan. 

Hermione looked around in closet doors for any supplies. She found some poster paper, markers, and fortunately enough some of those paper umbrella things. She was ready to implement her plan, it wouldn’t take too long, and would likely only cause a few nitpicks on her end.

****

Hermione was moving around a paper umbrella so it was balanced between two new releases when a voice caught her off guard.

“Hermione, how long have you been working on that?”

Hermione spun around to stare at the clock on the wall. Surprisingly enough, it was already 7:50. 30 minutes till the store opened and an hour of working on an, admittedly simple design.

“Don’t worry Tonks, not long,” Hermione said, only partially lying as she turned to face her boss. Tonks was a shorter woman with bubblegum pink hair who was currently wearing a shirt of the same color with ripped jeans and a leather jacket. It was a surprising lack of color from the woman who couldn’t go more than a month without changing her hair color.

“Are you sure? Because last time “not long” meant an hour and a half,” Tonks questioned, raising an eyebrow.  _ At least it was less time than that. _

“Yep, don’t worry about it, I’m done anyways,” Hermione said, unconvincingly. Sure she wasn’t  _ planning  _ on being done _ ,  _ but she was now.

“Great, now do you want checkout or customer help?” Tonks asked, looking around for anything that still needed to be done. The best part about working at this place was that the job descriptions were very fluid. One could be restocking one half of the day and working the register the next. Or at least they could, had both Hermione and her coworker Luna not had distinct preferences on which jobs they liked.

“Customer help, as usual,” Hermione responded, resisting the urge to change up the display some more. She liked doing that job in particular as it let her actually talk about books because people only ever visited customer help to find specific books or get recommendations. Besides, Luna was far better at small talk than she was, anyway. Hermione had the tendency to come off as awkward with mundane interactions.

Just as Hermione was about to head over to her desk, Luna walked in the door, her platinum blond hair a mess and her sundress covered in paint stains.

“Sorry if I’m late, I had some work to do at the shelter,” Luna said, in the dreamlike tone she always carried. Luna often volunteered at a shelter for abandoned animals and she really loved it there. Animals were Luna’s passion, and she wanted to become either a veterinarian or a zoologist. Hermione knew that mostly because of random conversations the two had and because Luna was dating Ron’s little sister, who never shut up about her.

“Actually Luna, I think you might early for once,” Tonks replied, incredulously, “You’re ok with working the register, right?”

“Yep,” Luna said, grinning at Tonks and Hermione as she went to place down her things behind the register desk. 

Now, they had twenty minutes to prep for the day.

****

Hermione was twenty minutes into the day, only one person having entered the store. It was an older man who wanted a book on world war two, although not many people wanted to buy books at eight forty-five, so it wasn’t anything too unusual. She was simply sitting at her little desk on the opposite side of the room as Luna’s. It was then, however, that she heard the door swing open, followed by a familiar click clack of high heels.

_ Oh no.  _

Hermione knew exactly who this was, though she really hoped she was wrong. The steadily loudening footsteps coming directly towards her didn’t help her hopes. The person in question went by the name of Pansy Parkinson, and she had a thing for talking to Hermione. 

Pansy went to the same uni as Hermione, as well as being a good friend to Harry’s boyfriend Draco, and the two were extraordinarily different. Pansy was overly emotional, she was flirtatious, she was a socialite, she loved material objects, and she was highly ambitious. She was also cunning, socially graceful, and  _ somehow  _ just about the smartest person in the political theory class they had together. Not that Hermione  _ noticed  _ or anything. No, Hermione Granger had no thoughts about Pansy, not about how she took flawless notes, or how she was fantastic at debates, or even the superficial thoughts like how pretty she was, or how sharply she dressed and spoke. No, Hermione did not have any of those sorts of thoughts about Pansy.

Not that it mattered, Pansy was just talking to her to bother her. As the clacking footsteps stopped, Pansy came into view. Her entirety radiated modern. Her hair was in a sleek bob as usual, bright red lipstick complementing sharp eyeliner that brought out her equally dark eyes. She wore a short sleeved black almost-turtleneck, with a vibrant pink pencil skirt, and baby pink kitten heels to match. She always managed to make Hermione feel underdressed, especially with the half smirk smile she constantly wore. The half smirk that was currently being directed to her.

“Good morning, darling,” Pansy said with a wink. With anyone else, Hermione would have either yelled at them or gave them a death glare, but it was Pansy who was just  _ like that,  _ so instead she earned a rolling of the eyes.

“Welcome miss, what can I help you with?” Hermione said, her customer voice coming through fake as plastic.

“Cut the damn tone for me Granger, it’s too saccharine for both our tastes and you know it. However, I would like help finding a book. I don’t remember what the title was, but the cover was red,” Pansy said, smirking fully now. She did that on purpose, probably just to annoy Hermione after she let it slip once that customers  _ always  _ did it and it took  _ forever  _ to find what they were looking for. 

“Pansy, you’re sure you know  _ nothing else  _ about this book?” Hermione asked. This was going to take a while

“Nope, but I do remember it was the same color as that jumper of yours,” Pansy responded, leaning in slightly and hovering a delicate finger above the top of her clothing, almost touching soft dark skin, “It suits you, by the way.”

Despite herself, Hermione blushed. Pansy was an absolute menace who knew all too well exactly what she was doing. 

“I suppose that this will take a while, then?” Hermione asked, clearing her throat and running her hand through her slightly tangled dark brown hair.

Pansy appeared to be forcing down a genuine smile as she said sweetly, “I suppose this will.”

Hermione then began the process of finding as many red books as she could and showing them to Pansy, each earning a slight shake of the head. Occasionally, Pansy asked questions that would feel prying on anyone else, but were less annoying and a little bit more of regular curiosity from her.  _ God, why is Pansy always the exception.  _

“What do you think of our political theory teacher?”

“What’s your least favorite class?”

“Do you have a favorite customer experience?”

“What were your thoughts on the lecture yesterday?”

And Hermione answered her questions. Every. Single. One. And Pansy responded. And they had  _ full conversations.  _ Hermione could never understand why this person, who was probably just toying with her, was so intent on having actual conversations around simple questions. Or why Hermione herself kept answering. Or even how the conversations were so easy for her, someone who would rather eat a rock than engage in small talk.

Finally, Hermione found it. A medium sized book with the outline of a boy in a hoodie and a white speech bubble. As Hermione lifted the book up with tired eyes, she could see a smile cross Pansy’s features again. Pansy had a nice smile, teeth like pearls and bright red lips like flower petals.

“That would be the one. Thank you again, Granger,” Pansy said with a wink as she stepped away to purchase the book. 

As Hermione walked back to her desk, she looked up at the clock, then to the desk. It had nearly been an hour that she had spent talking and finding a book for Pansy, however fortunately enough no one was waiting for her. Suddenly, she was a little more thankful of the slower work day. With any luck, it would continue like this, as Pansy had a tendency to visit multiple times a day. Much to Hermione’s dismay, that is. Hermione sat back down in her chair and waited, once again, for another customer.

****

By the time five thirty rolled around, Hermione was exhausted. Too many people had no clue what authors’ names were or even what fucking  _ genre  _ they thought the book was and Pansy had visited twice more. Fortunately, her colorful savior was walking towards her.

“Alright Hermione, you said you got here at 6:30, so you’ve been here for  _ eleven  _ goddamn hours. For the sake of your mental health  _ please leave.  _ I don’t want to have to do this, but I  _ will  _ make Fleur come down and mother you,” Tonks borderline begged, giving Hermione a pointed look. Tonks’ fiancée Fleur was a feminine force to reckon with, and occasionally gave her and Luna “mothering speeches” whenever Tonks told her they were doing something even slightly unhealthy.

“Thank you Tonks, bye Luna, see you guys Thursday,” Hermione said, picking up her backpack and phone and heading for the door. She looked down at her phone to find, unsurprisingly, a few new texts.

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** yo do yall wanna grab an early dinner or what

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** Yeah I don’t have plans hbu Hermione

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** It’s monday hermione never has stuff on monday

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** hey workaholic we’ll be at that new place @ 5:40 ish be there if ur free

**_Sent at 5:15 pm_ **

Hermione took a look at her phone’s clock. Currently, it was only five thirty-two, so she still had plenty of time to get over to the restaurant. She waved over a cab, waited for it to pull up, and got in. The cabbie and her sat in comfortable silence after she told him where to go. The place in question was a smaller pub type of restaurant called The Three Broomsticks that had only been open for a few weeks, and was already strangely popular. The food was really good and everyone seemed to like it, even Harry’s absurdly preppy and fancy boyfriend. 

Fortunately for her, Ron and Harry were already waiting with a table inside. Both got up to hug her, before sitting down and looking at the menu. 

“Hey Hermione, glad you could part with your work to visit us. We were starting to get worried you know,” Ron said, teasingly. Both of them thought she worked just a little too much, whether it was school or the bookstore. 

“Yeah ‘Mione, great to have a visit once every 15 years or so,” Harry added, laughing just a little. 

Hermione gasped, feigning indignance, “I did just see you yesterday,” she remarked, pressing her hand to her chest in fake annoyance, “and the day before that, and-”

“We kid, ‘Mione, we kid,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. Behind them, Hermione heard the door open and multiple voices start chattering. It was rude to look over, so she didn’t. Ron and Harry however, started to look at the mini television displaying a football game. Hermione knew they were goners at that point, which was proven moments later when they got into a heated discussion about the topic and some team called “The Cannons”. So, while eavesdropping was rude and bad, Hermione decided it was an evil she was willing to bear. However she would not look, as it just felt even more invasive.

One of the voices, who sounded eerily familiar, kept talking about the stock market and fashion designers. It was… oddly interesting, and impressive how much she knew. At least, based on the voice, it was a she. The voice kept talking and talking, arguing about business strategy and fashion relevancy. She knew so much, and kept sharing detail after detail. It reminded Hermione of what she had done time and time again about various petitions she wanted to write or different movements she was supporting. It was nice, seeing someone reach a similar level of passion that she often did. But the analysis felt familiar, at least the structure of it, in a way Hermione couldn’t put her finger on. As if she had heard it before. It was probably nothing, however she was considerably more alert than before.

Just moments later, the voice said she would be going to the bathroom, followed by several click clacks from what Hermione assumed to be heels. That’s when other voices started to talk, loudly and on top of each other. They were hard to make out, but she could catch little phrases;  _ Oh my god she’s so annoying, can’t get a word in edgewise, does she  _ really  _ think we care, why do we even invite her places?  _ It was all comically rude, but that last thought seemed to strike up a conversation.

“Because her parents are influential, important, and  _ rich.” _

“Yeah, but so are ours, we don’t  _ need her _ .”

“Doesn’t mean our parents won’t be mad with us for losing them an opportunity.”

“I suppose you’re right, as long as she still thinks we like her why waste business potential?”

“Besides, the princess is always good for a laugh.”

Most of the table started laughing at this, and it was all so  _ stupid.  _ Everyone was acting so superficial and cartoonishly mean. It reminded Hermione of the stories Draco would tell of some of his less close “friends” who were mostly friends for his parent’s sake. They were probably the same lot of people, catty and rich and obnoxious. They were also suddenly silent.

Most of the restaurant paid no attention to them, focusing on their own meals and conversations. Even though Hermione refused to stare at the affair, more out of stubbornness than actual morals at that point, she felt herself being drawn in. 

Suddenly, a loud sobbing erupted from one side of the room, and Hermione finally turned to look over, a crying girl running to the door. Running away from her friends, who were all dressed posh and looked more inconvenienced and annoyed than sad that someone they were talking to ran out the door crying. But she was surprised, not at the friends, but because of the girl. In the brief glimpse Hermione caught of her, she could see the easily recognizable style, hair, and face clear as day. Hermione hadn’t a clue how she didn’t realize it before.

Because the voice belonged to none other than Pansy Parkinson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy cries in a bathroom while she and Hermione work out their personal issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me 2 whole weeks, I need to get faster at writing. There's a little more of that "Pansy having petty and mean friends" stuff and one (1) mediocrely written kiss scene. Comments are pretty neato, so if you feel like giving me one that would be pretty nice.

In all fairness, Hermione didn’t know why she didn’t recognize the voice. She already spent enough time with Pansy to be able to understand what she sounded like, so what was the problem? Maybe she was distracted by everything else going on? She could have just been tired as well. Hermione contemplated this for the millionth time as she sat in her help desk, waiting for customers. It seemed that over the past two days, the memory flitted through Hermione’s mind whenever it found the time. 

It had been a long morning, after getting in early Fleur came in to talk about getting rest, and taking time away. Hermione tried to argue that she  _ just  _ had two days off, but Fleur was having none of that. Needless to say, Hermione received quite a tongue lashing that day, however no one besides Luna and Tonks were there that day, so her pride remained in tact. 

However, staring at the rows of books and color surrounding her, a thought stumbled into her head.  _ What if I refused to think it was her?  _ Hermione felt her eyes widen in realization.  _ Just maybe, I couldn’t think of her as anything but an annoyance. Maybe I couldn’t reconcile hearing her the way I did, so I didn’t. _

It still felt a little weird to Hermione, especially thinking about how easily impressed she was by someone she thought of mostly as a nuisance. Although she  _ was  _ impressed by her in any classes they had together… Nope. It was too early for any life changing realizations she had about Pansy fucking Parkinson.

Long morning aside, Hermione wasn’t even that tired or worn out. People had generally known what it was they were looking for, or at least knew enough details for her to find it. She was, for lack of a better phrase, at peace. Or at least she  _ was.  _

Almost on cue, the door swung open with a ting of the bell, followed by the click of heels on wood floors. Hermione found herself becoming unnecessarily nervous.  _ It’s fine, plenty of people wear heels, and even if it is her, you have nothing to worry about. Get a grip. _

From in between the bookcases, Pansy emerged, looking smug as always. She wore a soft pink collared shirt and a black skirt, looking so well put together it was like she  _ didn’t  _ run out of a restaurant crying just two days ago. It was impressive.

“Good afternoon, Granger,” Pansy said, batting her eyelashes. She leaned into the desk in a way that bordered on flirtatious. So Pansy was back to her usual self.

“What will It be today?” Hermione sighed, resignation filling her tone. 

“I thought we could just talk, seeing as there’s not really any people here,” Pansy suggested, “ I suppose I could take a recommendation for a gift. Real smart, loves math, hates astrology and that sort of thing.”

Before Hermione could respond, a string of buzzes sounded from Pansy’s pocket. The second girl pulled out a shiny silver phone, and stared at it for a solid minute. Hermione could swear she sees Pansy’s face change, flickering between surprise, anger, and sadness for moments at a time.

“Actually Granger, do you- could I- where is the bathroom?” Pansy asked, her lip quivering just the slightest bit.

“End of the hall on the left. There isn’t a code.”

Pansy walked off quickly, looking as if she were about to cry. Hermione wondered if she could go help her, but it didn’t quite seem like the right time. So instead she waited. She waited for 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 15 minutes.

Finally, after 20 minutes, Hermione finally decided to walk over to the door. Surprisingly enough people still hadn’t entered the store, so she was pretty safe walking away from her desk. When she stepped up to the door, she knocked softly, heart beating irrationally fast.

“Pansy? Are you doing okay?”

The door swings open accompanied by a muffled thud and a continued stream of wimpers. Sitting in the center of the colorful tiled floor was Pansy, sprawled uncharacteristically with her phone sitting a few inches away from her currently trembling hand. Her eyeliner and mascara was flowing down her cheeks in messy lines, smudged from her pawing hands wiping at them every few seconds. Hermione didn’t really know what to do, just feeling a strong urge to help her deep in her chest.

Hermione closed the door, stepping a few feet closer to her. “Pansy…” Hermione released, quickly losing all coherent trains of thought.  _ Oh my god, what am I doing? I don’t know how to comfort someone.  _

Pansy looked up at her with tired eyes, tears still slowly coming down. “Don’t worry, I’ll be done in a second, but I will be venting,” she says weakly, dabbing at her eyes and reaching for her phone. Ever the surprise, Pansy was good at this, maybe upsettingly so.

“So what happened?” Hermione said, hoping for something safe to ask. Alas, that somehow managed to be the one thing she shouldn’t have asked, as upon hearing this, Pansy looked back at her phone and promptly started to tear up again. The phone slipped from her hand and Hermione caught it, looking at the bright screen. It displayed picture after picture of what looked like the group she had seen a few nights ago doing various things. Getting coffee, going to the beach, going shopping, or any other cliché friend thing, all without Pansy. Not to mention they were all captioned some stereotypical phrase like “#SquadGoals” or “Bffs forever!!!” like they were middle school bullies in a clique.

Another ding signalled a new text. Hermione clicked to read it and immediately found a long list of mostly one sided texts.

**_Tina--_ ** I can’t wait to go out to dinner!!!

**_Tina--_ ** Oh my god why tf did u run out crybaby

**_Tina--_ ** Why the fuck are u so lame??

**_Tina--_ ** Hope u didn’t want to do anything today killjoy

**_Tina--_ ** If you’d stop being a bitch all the time maybe we’d like you more

**_Tina--_ ** U kinda brought those things on urself

**_Tina--_ ** omfg I can’t believe ur still upset about today

**_Tina--_ ** Oh ur ghosting me real mature

**_Tina--_ ** _ Click Here For Pictures! _

**_Tina--_ ** Have fun being friendless bitch.

Despite the cartoonish meanness, Hermione felt for Pansy. Despite it all, her ‘friends’ seemed pretty important to her. Cautiously, Hermione patted Pansy’s shoulder. Damn, she was bad at this. Fortunately, Pansy leaned into it, scooting closer to her. Feeling hopeful, she crouched down and got even closer, to which Pansy enveloped her in a soft hug.

"I'm sorry about them. Although, you don't really need those losers anyway."

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do this,” Pansy said, wiping her tears again. She was making eye contact and It was an oddly genuine moment for Hermione.

“I mean, I couldn’t just leave you in here indefinitely.”

“No I just… I got the feeling that you didn’t really like me.”

That was fair, considering she could definitely find her annoying. But, she was also usually forced to remember how brilliant and pretty she was, so it balanced out.

“That’s actually why I kept showing up here, I wanted to talk with you.”

That caused Hermione’s eyebrows to quirk. At least she wasn’t crying anymore.

“Well how would you have gone about it? You’re not exactly approachable you know.”

“No, I just thought you came in here to mess with me, like with the book cover thing,” Hermione said, rather bluntly.  _ Please don’t start crying again.  _

“You said it took a while, and I wanted to maximize time,” Pansy said with a shrug. It was as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So you, um, aren’t just messing with me?” Hermione asked, the faintest bit of a blush appearing on her face. 

“Afraid not. I happen to harbor a particular, er, affection towards you,” Pansy remarked, looking away from her. 

“What- what kind of a-affection,” Hermione stammered out, her cheeks growing warmer and warmer.

“You know, for someone so intelligent you can be a little dumb sometimes,” Pansy said, turning her head back at her, a complete lack of mocking in her tone. She inched a little bit closer, an action Hermione didn’t particularly mind. 

“I might be reading this wrong and I’m sorry if I am and you totally don’t have to-”

“Get it out Granger.”

“Could I kiss you?” Hermione asked, but an inch between their lips. Pansy didn’t respond, opting to close her eyes and lean in and-

Fireworks lit off in Hermione’s head. It was soft and warm and gentle, Pansy’s hand on her cheek feather-soft. Her heart raced in pure excitement, a smile growing on her lips uncontrollably. Somehow it was everything she wanted, despite being as messy and chaotic as Tonks’ decorating choices. She quickly intertwined their fingers, before pulling away. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it felt hours long and left both visibly happy.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I met you, ever since you won every debate the teacher threw at you,” Pansy whispered, grinning ear to ear. Hermione’s heart did backflips at that. “However I do think it is time we got you back to your desk.”

“Wait, are we- did that mean anything?”

“That depends, do you want it to mean something?”

“I think I do,” Hermione said, finally coming to terms with the idea.

“Perfect, now I do happen to kiss and tell, so I won’t be opposed to you doing the same,” Pansy said, acting dignified despite blushing wildly.

As they got up and went out the door, Pansy turned around to face Hermione again.

“I suppose I will need your phone number.”

Hermione handed her phone over to Pansy, watching as she typed out her number. When she was done, she handed back the phone and planted a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Goodbye Hermione, it was lovely to see you,” Pansy said, turning around and walking out the door. She had never used Hermione’s first name before. Looking up, she could see Tonks and Luna staring at her with wide eyes. Tonks gestured to the door Pansy had left from, to which Hermione responded with a slight nod. Luna gave her a thumbs up as she walked back to her desk.

The second she reached where she was supposed to be, she took a deep breath and sat down. By some miracle (the fact that it was a small bookstore on a thursday afternoon), the store was near empty and those who were in happened to be nowhere near her desk. She could probably get some shelving done if she wanted. Possibilities were endless. All she had to do was her job, and then at the end of the day she could process what happened.

****

**_Hermione--_ ** Hey, I just got out of work.

**_Hermione--_ ** Sorry I couldn’t tell you before, but:

**_Hermione--_ ** I kissed Pansy.

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** Woah really

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** I truly cannot believe it

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** :0

**_Roonil Wazilb--_ ** what shock

**_Hermione--_ ** You could just tell me you knew.

**_Ya Boi Who Lived--_ ** Yeah Draco and Blaize told us I assume Pansy told them

Hermione looked away from her phone and laughed. Of course their posh friends kept them up to date, especially seeing as Draco was like a PTA mom when it came to gossip. She only looked down when she heard another text come through.

  
**_Pansy--_ ** Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Granger.


End file.
